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| 2014/05/16 14:48:43瀏覽185｜回應0｜推薦0 | |
| I wrote a story with indulgence the beauty, with mature fictional the climax of the story, who is willing to write the ending of the story wrote for me? Looking back, the past year, I did not complain about the youth of the pain, on the contrary, it gave me the courage, gave me mature. Yes, I began to understand, even with thorns, as long as we are on the road, do not go back; even if the wind and rain, as long as we met, you can't back down. As is the ideal in mind, the road is not feet. We always yearn for Everything is going smoothly., but the reality is The path winds along mountain ridges.; we always longing for success, but the reality is gully. As the ideal is: Lin Daiyu Kroraina dream falls for life, but the reality is 户庭 corner after bitter flowers hong kong hotels, buried infatuated love and endless waiting. As the ideal is: I have passed the examination of the endless cheer achieve success and win recognition, while the reality is I have a superficial knowledge of heavy exercises the helpless and wanton impatience. Sometimes, even if we know some things can be met without resort, but hundred-percent, chasing. Years of youth become stingy, mark time left us deeply, to the unknown future fear, is the regret for the past. The past, in addition to lament, and moved. Sometimes people are easily satisfied, even intimate greetings, just a accidentaly across the tacit understanding. Some of the beautiful miss, is warm, is stunning. Those memories are time spalling of the diary, then begin to become warmth. Once rebellious want to travel around the world university technology . Want to go to the north there, to see cherry blossoms to write poetry, want to go to Switzerland, where the taste of chocolate, full of love. |
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